The Fate of Monsters
by Parcasious
Summary: At the dawn of the Fourth Holy War, monsters are summoned to walk upon the earth. One, cast from the graces of God, drowned in blood and countless lives. The other, a blade for which to smite God's foes, a heretical saint bound in thorns. This is their dance.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Fate Of Monsters**_

 _ **By: I*C*U***_

* * *

 _ **Chapter I:**_

* * *

 _ **-Fuyuki City-**_

Sipping her tea, Integra observed as Seras completed the circle, squeezing forth the final ounces of blood from the murderer's butchered remains, to finish, with a flourish, the Hellsing family signature emblazoned upon the seal. She pursed her lips, taking one last sip of her now frigid Earlgrey, before rising out of her seat and approaching the Vampire. Finally. They could begin.

On her way over, she set down her cup atop a nearby dissection table, situated far off to the side and away from the center of the room where the circle lay spread, glistening in the dark. Integra strode forward, paces measured as she took her place at the front of the seal, digging into her pocket to pull forth a cigar.

Lighting it, she took a breath and closed her eyes. This had better work, she thought with a frown. She still had an earful to give to that worthless dog, and if this bloody ritual didn't pull him out of whatever existential hole the Major had dropped him into, she would be pissed.

For months, she had poured over the hundreds of ancient texts 'procured' from the Magus association, and gleaning all that she could on the subject of summoning. From the materials needed to begin the ritual, to the process in which they needed to be conducted. All of this, she had amassed in an effort to reach her ultimate goal, of calling forth, not a Hero, but a beast. A Monster, for all intents and purposes, that did not belong within the Throne of Heroes.

To do this she would need to circumvent the standard procedures of the Grail's summoning ritual and establish a specific route for which the Grail would have no choice but to call forth the being of her choosing, to take on the role of her servant. Primarily, the main challenge of such an endeavor would lie in her need to divert, and redirect, the Grail's connection from the Throne of Heroes. From there, specifying just whom she desired to summon would be simple enough. She merely had to follow standard protocol for the summoning and provide a tangible link to the being she had chosen to call forth.

The Cromwell Seal they had drawn would act as such a medium, alongside the Vampire's personal coffin, and the presence of Seras herself, one of King's own coven. If that was not enough, they had also brought forth the remnants of both the Jackal and Casull handguns, as well as the vampire's favorite orange tinted glasses.

Before that however, they needed to defile the ritual. To twist and desecrate the summoning to such an extent, that the Throne of Heroes itself, would be forced to actively deny the Grail access to its stores. They had begun, by utilizing, in place of animal blood, human - from the worst humanity itself had to offer. Rapists. Kidnappers. Psychopaths and madmen. It was that very reason they were even in this decrepit morgue in the first place, as it was the inevitable location of many of the deceased inmates from the city's local penitentiary.

From there they had altered the chant, changed the seal, and had even seriously considered performing a ritual sacrifice, before deciding against it. In fact, they had already procured their offering quite a few days ago, an utterly infuriating young serial killer with a penchant for murdering children in the most horrific of fashions.

But, in the end, this was only under the assumption that the Grail was in fact, at least partially Omnipotent, as so many Magi have said it to be. If so, then surely reaching between the fabrics of space to pull forth the basic equivalent of a Demon Lord couldn't be that much of a challenge for such an all powerful entity. If not, then obviously, someone was going to pay for wasting her time, and the time thereafter that she would have to use to conduct yet another summoning ritual.

Absently, she glanced at the seals emblazoned upon her hand - A rather abstract rendition of a Vampire's gaping jaws. In truth, when she had first discovered them on her person, she had initially assumed that someone had cursed her. After all, while the Hellsings themselves were mostly non-magical, they had never been strangers to magic itself, particularly in regards to its more unseemly capabilities.

She had been furious and immediately demanded the head of whomever had placed the mark upon her. It was only after the visions began, along with her own active research, did she realize that they were actually 'command seals' - powerful, ingrained magic bestowed upon her by a faux Holy Grail, crafted by Magi, said to be capable of granting any wish to the winner of some ridiculously convoluted battle royale they had been hosting for centuries. Her family, she had learned, had been keeping tabs on the thing for generations, watching for any sign of the artifact being used for evil.

At that point in time, they had been content, it seemed, simply to watch from the sidelines as silent observers, but Integra, pragmatist that she was, was of an entirely different perspective. To her, it seemed as though God himself had given her a perfect opportunity, to destroy the Grail. After all, desire was a powerful thing. One phrase, one sentence, and the whole bloody world could be sent spiraling towards its destruction.

It wasn't a matter of 'if', in her mind, but 'when'. Whether it happened now during this war, or in the war hereafter was irrelevant. Sooner or later, some crazed Magi would eventually bring an end to the world itself, and it would not be pretty.

Thus, the plan was simple. She would use her position as a participant in the war to her advantage, and win the Grail for herself. At which point, she would then wish upon the sacred chalice, its own destruction.

It would be dangerous, yes, considering that she would be facing off against several veteran Magi, but she was more than confident in her chances at victory, particularly when considering her choice of company. Either way, the Queen herself had already given her blessings for the mission. It was now an official assignment in the name if Britain, and they were finally ready to join the fray.

And really, the faster they got this summoning over with, the faster she could get out of this disgusting morgue. She simply could not stand the smell in here any longer. Rotting corpses coincided by the smoke of candles, it was utterly revolting.

"Are we clear to begin the summoning Seras?" She spoke.

"Yes Milady," the Vampire nodded. "All the guards have been taken care of and I've left Pip to watch the door. No one will be disturbing us."

"Good. Then let us begin."

Seras stepped into the circle, and Integra began the incantation, extending her arm and closing her eyes.

 _"Fill. Fill. Have your fill of flesh and blood._

 _Let fire and brimstone be the essence._

 _Let death and damnation be thine hold._

 _Let rise a scream against the wind that shall fall._

 _Let the four cardinal gates close._

 _Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom shut._

 _Let it be declared now;_

 _Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your swords._

 _Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail._

 _Answer, if you would once more submit to this will and this truth._

 _An oath shall be sworn here._

 _I shall carry all burdens Heaven hath cast upon you;_

 _I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell._

 _From the Seventh Ring of Purgatory, attended to by the seven great demons of sin._

 _Come forth from the ring of restraint, destroyer of the holy balance!"_

* * *

 **}{●}{◇**

* * *

A shudder in the dark, a single conscience breaking free, of the countless souls writhing in a pitch black void.

He could hear it. Feel it. A voice, a call, oh so very familiar - strong, firm, and yet wholly and undeniably, wrong.

Dear Integra, the Vampire thought amusedly, allowing himself to fall into the strength of the pull. So, you have come once more to free your servant from his confines.

A deep resounding chuckle. How very generous of you.

Your servant, shall come as beckoned.

* * *

 **}{●}{◇**

* * *

The results were near instantaneous.

The moment she had finished the chant, the world itself had darkened around them. The shadows throughout the room, twisting and converging towards the seal to form a tall dark mass of pulsing, wriggling centipedes that clicked and hissed. Integra pursed her lips in distaste. How unseemly.

Quickly, Seras hopped back from where she stood, a small soft smile seen clearly upon her lips. "Master..." She whispered reverently, watching as the darkness steadily took shape, forming arms, legs, a wicked grin and two laughing red eyes.

"So you've come." Integra stated, taking a long drawn breath of her cigar.

The figure chuckled. "As you have commanded." It replied with a bow.

"What classification are you?"

"Caster. Or so the Grail has told me."

Integra hummed in response. She had expected as much. The Vampire's sheer demonic power would allow him only to fit that one particular class. Still, it was somewhat disconcerting to be perfectly honest, as that meant she would still have to deal with the constant threat of Assassin throughout the rest of the war. Something, she was sure, would prove exceedingly annoying as time went on.

Regardless, it seemed as though the summoning was a success. Who knew Magi could actually tell the truth.

"I see." She replied, releasing a breath. "Very well then. Let us finish this quickly. We have much to discuss and I'd rather not do it standing here in this, hovel."

Integra extended her arm. _"I do hereby, under my name: Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, accept the terms of the Holy Grail, as the Master of Caster."_

 _"And by my title of Servant Caster, do I hereby accept the terms of the Grail, and acknowledge Lady Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, as my lord and Master."_ The Shadow followed suit, loosing a cackle as a flash of energy rippled through the air. Integra lowered her arm, the seals on her hand now surging with new found power.

"It is done." She said aloud, glasses glinting as she met the Vampire's eyes. She smiled darkly, then promptly strode towards the corner of the room where a young man sat frozen, properly bound and gagged. Interestingly enough, she noted that the young killer looked far more in awe of the situation, rather than in any actual fear. It was a sight that disturbed Integra far more than she was willing to admit. With a quick hand, she tore off his gag.

"You wanted to see a monster?" She began, towering imperiously above the other, her features a scowl. "Well here he is."

She turned towards her Servant. "Alucard, your dinner."

The murderer grinned. "So Cooool!"

* * *

 **}{●}{◇**

* * *

Kariya was perplexed.

He hadn't the slightest idea about what to feel, let alone think, when it came to his Servant. Berserker was an absolute mystery. For one, the man was completely lucid. He knew exactly what he was doing, at all times, in all situations. He was calm, collected, and still hadn't spoken a single word to the former Matou heir since his summoning. And Kariya was damn sure, the man knew how to talk. Particularly since he was doing it right now, comforting a crying little boy at the edge of a playground, while Kariya rested at the benches.

He sighed. Oh well, at least with the way Berserker was, he didn't have to expend any extra energy in order to keep him under control. Whether that be due to the effects of his legend, or simply him suppressing his Mad Enhancement, Kariya did not know. But for now, he would take it as a small consolation. After all, the less energy he had to spend, the slower worms' rate of progression would become, granting him at least a partial reprieve from the near constant pain still wracking his system.

Still though, he had to wonder, just who in the world was Berserker? Clearly. Just from his appearance, Kariya could tell he was a priest of sorts. Not a saint, he figured, as no saint, would ever allow themselves to fall so low as to become a mad beast, that was Berserker's classification. So an Executor most likely, but just how an Executor of all people would end up as a heroic spirit was beyond him. They were the Church's shadow, their silent blade that lurked in the dark, hidden from the public eye. Thus amongst the masses, no true legend of any single Executor could ever come about, for even if one did, it would have to survive the efforts of the Church in seeking to snuff it out. And at that, Kariya frowned, for that left only one final explanation.

Berserker was a hero _within_ the Church. Unknown to the outside world, but revered within the inner machinations of the Vatican and Clergy. That must have been the reason why the Old Worm had been so adamant that he leave the manor, the moment his Servant had been summoned. He had never seen the other magus so wary, so unsettled. It was clear to Kariya now, as he thought back on it, that Zouken knew exactly who Berserker was, and as always, hadn't bothered to share that little tidbit of information with him before he left. How typical, he thought bitterly.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Kariya raised his gaze to once more look upon his servant. Easily, the man stood a near seven feet tall, with short spiked blonde hair, and giant red scar that ran across the left side of his face. His eyes were a vivid green, his jaw strong and heavy set, and covered with stubble. He wore a pair of simple wire frame glasses and standard priest robe, beneath a long a grey overcoat. Though perhaps the most unique aspect of his appearance would be his hands, or more specifically, the gloves he wore upon them.

 _Speak with the Dead._

 _Jesus Christ is in Heaven._

Kariya didn't know exactly what was so significant about those particular phrases but he would commit them to memory regardless. Who knows, it might just be the key to finding out his servant's identity. He watched Berserker ruffle the little boy's hair.

"... Okay? Now get going then." Berserker smiled. "And remember, violence is never the answer. Unless of course, you're dealing with Monsters and Heretics." He laughed, before glancing towards Kariya, sending shivers down his spine. "In which case, feel free to rip'em apart as much as you bloody well like!"

The little boy beamed. "Yes Father!"

* * *

◇}{●}{◇

* * *

 _ **Servants:**_

 _Class:_ Caster

 _Master:_ Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing

 _True Name:_ Alucard/Dracula, formerly Vlad III

An alternate interpretation of the Wallachian Prince Vlad III, that turned his back on God, and was turned into a monster for his sins against humanity. As such, he never became a Heroic Spirit, and was damned to wander the world for eternity, searching tirelessly for a human capable of ending his unlife.

 _Gender:_ Male

 _Titles:_ The King of Vampires. The No Life King. The Dragon of Wallachia. The Monster Who Rejects God.

 _Height/Weight_ : Variable

 _Alignment:_ Chaotic Neutral.

 _Strength:_ B

 _Endurance:_ A

 _Agility:_ B

 _Mana:_ EX

 _Luck:_ -

 _ **Noble Phantasm:**_ C - EX

 _Casull and Jackal Handguns:_ C (Anti-Unit)

Two custom built handguns designed by Walter C. Dornez.

Hellsing ARMS .454 Cassull Auto - A semi-automatic pistol used for rapid fire assaults and enemy suppression.

Hellsing Combat Pistol 'Jackal' - A veritable hand-cannon.

Both weapons possess infinite ammunition, but still require the action of reloading.

 _Souls Of The Damned:_ EX (Anti-Army)

The amalgamation of the innumerable lost souls assimilated by Caster. They are his personal army, and act as the main source of prana used to sustain his being.

Manifesting as the Vampire 's personal Coffin and as a Reality Marble when fully loosed, the phantasm exist as an entirely separate entity, connected to, but no longer part of Caster himself, due to the restrictions of the Grail.

Can only be fully released under the orders of a Command Seal.

 _ **Class Skills:**_

 _Item Construction/Territory Creation:_ D

Skills leeched from the many Magi Caster has consumed over time, but degraded significantly due to not being part of Caster's true capabilities.

 _ **Personal Skills:**_

 _Omnipresence:_ EX

Garnered by Caster after absorbing the artificial Vampire - Schrodinger, this ability allows Caster to exhibit and manipulate the effects of quantum reality, giving him the power to exist wherever and however he may desire. Furthermore, this skill allows Caster to personally manipulate his own state of reality, and can be summed up with the mere statement: **"I think, therefore I am."** As such, the ability requires full cognitive thought and a minimum amount of attention to utilize, as Caster must be able to actively picture the location or state in which he wishes to appear.

This skill is usable only due to the fact that Caster is now a singular entity, separate from his _Noble Phantasm: Souls of the Damned._ Furthermore, when the aforementioned phantasm is fully released, this skill can no longer be used.

 _Blessings of Blood:_ A++

Allows Caster to assimilate the souls of fallen enemies, and utilize their abilities, knowledge and skills, as his own.

 _Precognition:_ C

The passive ability to peer into the near future. Allows Caster to predict and react accordingly to the movements and attacks of his opponents.

 _Mystic Eyes of Enchantment and Revelation:_ B+

Allows Caster to subjugate and read the minds of all those that he locks eyes with. Can be resisted with _Magic Resistance:_ B or higher.

* * *

◇}{●}{◇

* * *

 _Class:_ Berserker

 _Master:_ Kariya Matou

 _True Name:_ Alexander Anderson

A legendary Executor and Regenerator of the Vatican, borne through the fusion of human technology and advanced Thaumaturgy. Awarded with the title of Paladin, Anderson was an inspirational figure and the defacto leader of the Iscariot Organization and its many Executors. During his final mission, he thrust into his heart the sacred nail of Helena, leading to his transformation into a Monster of God.

 _Gender:_ Male

 _Titles:_ Judas Priest. Dust to Dust Anderson. Off with its Head Anderson. Saint Guillotine.

 _Height/Weight_ : 90kg

 _Alignment:_ Lawful Nuetral

 _Strength:_ B (A)

 _Endurance:_ A (A+)

 _Agility:_ B (A)

 _Mana:_ D (C)

 _Luck:_ A (A+)

 _ **Noble Phantasm:**_ C - EX

 _Sacred Armaments:_ C (Anti-Unit)

Berserker is capable of wielding an endless supply of sacred weaponry, ranging from his famed bayonets to his throwing knives and personal bible used for creating barriers. Damage inflicted by these weapons is bolstered when the opponent is of demonic origin.

 _Nail Of Helena:_ A (A++) (Anti-Unit - Anti-Army)

Berserker's main Noble Phantasm, allowing him to manifest an endless number of writhing thorns from his person, capable of being controlled at will. Once Mad Enhancement is activated, Berserker can fully manifest himself _as_ these thorns, and is capable of enshrouding them in sacred flame.

 _Divine Aria:_ EX (Anti-Unit)

A single use ability, that allows Berserker to call upon the Holy Father and Creator for an instantaneous act of support - granting him **_Complete Invincibility_ (Rank: EX to all stats)** for a limited amount of time.

 _ **Class Skills:**_

 _Mad Enhancement:_ A

Capable of use, only under the orders of a Command Seal.

 ** _Personal Skills:_**

 _Regeneration:_ EX

Granted to Berserker due to his induction as a Regenerator and further bolstered by the Holy powers of the Nail of Helena when under the effects of Mad Enhancement, this skill allows Berserker to withstand fatal and debilitating injuries with ease so long as his heart, where the Nail remains embedded, is left undamaged.

 _Divinity:_ B

As a Monster of the Almighty Father, Berserker is given limited Divinity, allowing him to utilize the 'Purge Defense' technique to shatter enemy defenses.

 _Protection of the Faith:_ A+

A skill possessed only by those who have sacrificed themselves for a religious view, granting near impenetrable defense against all forms of magic, save for only the strongest of spells.

* * *

 _ **If Alucard and Anderson seem too overpowered, please tell me. I will attempt to amend the mistakes as soon as possible. It is just really hard not to make either of them seem overpowered, particularly when both their abilities alone take up almost a quarter of their respective wiki pages haha...**_

 _ **However, I digress, and Thank you for reading.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Fate Of Monsters**_

 _ **By:I*C*U***_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 2:_**

* * *

 _-Fuyuki City-_

Gazing out towards the city from her balcony view, Integra loosed a breath as she pondered her next course of action. Casually, she toyed with the cigar she held in her hands and jarred loose the ashes into her personal tray. She frowned.

Was it a ploy? A trick, to make them lower their guard? If so, then she didn't know whether to feel impressed or insulted. Execution wise, it was entirely subpar. Assassin, the biggest overall threat to the Masters in the war, dead right of the gate? Integra barely resisted the urge to snort. It was far too convenient. Even an amateur could tell that something was off, particularly when one considered the circumstances surrounding the silent killer's apparent demise.

From what Alucard had told her the night before, Assassin had been killed out in the gardens, not in the manor itself, which would have been much more believable, but in the open area of the Tohsaka family's elegant front lawn. This indicated that Assassin must have either been careless enough to actually get caught, or that they had been expected. Integra for one, was leaning towards the latter.

Assassin was a professional. There was about a snowflake's chance in hell that someone with such skill and finesse would have been stupid enough to actually get caught out in the open, let alone unawares. Furthermore, Assassin was an expert at stealth, even without the use of his presence concealment capability. More often than not, the only way one would ever be able to tell they were being stalked, would be when the frigid feeling of steel sliding between flesh erupted through their chests.

For Archer, or literally any other Servant with the exception of Caster, to able to even realize that Assassin had been present within the area during the time of the event, they would have needed to either possess a legendary tracking skill, or had been looking for the Assassin in the first place. And Integra knew for a fact, that very few servants had such a capability, thus the only plausible explanation would have been the fact that Archer had most likely been foretold of Assassin's arrival.

So then why was Alucard so adamant that a Servant had died that night? It was this question that Integra could not answer, and truth be told, she found she rather was impressed. In the case that Assassin truly was dead, in their Master's sheer stupidity, and in the case Assassin was not, in just how they managed to confound her so.

Archer couldn't be dead. No matter how skilled Assassin may be, they simply did not have the physical capability to win any sort of direct confrontation with any other Servant except Caster, let alone one of the three Knight Classes. Add in the fact that all Servants were spiritually linked to the Grail and are as such capable of sensing whether or not one of their own had passed and she had a very convincing case that clearly supported Assassin's untimely demise. But did that mean that the legendary Hassan was well and truly dead?

No, at least, not for Integra. Her knowledge of strategy, and justified paranoia refused to allow her to so easily accept such a convenient assumption. There might have been something else afoot that occurred during the clash, something Alucard's familiars had failed to see. You could only get so much information from rodents after all, and Magi were slimy little things. She wouldn't put it past any of her competitors not to try and cheat the system, considering she had already done so herself.

Still, if Assassin was dead, well then all the more convenient for her and her plans. She would just have to confirm it first. Till then, she would continue under the assumption that Assassin was alive, so as to better protect herself should things get - overly risque. She took a breath of her cigar, feeling the familiar chill of the one now behind her, the wind dying down and the air heavy with cold.

"Vampire." She spoke, not needing to turn around to know exactly who it was.

"Master." The Count replied, his form her shadow cast against the light of the moon. "A beautiful night isn't it?"

"Indeed it is." Integra responded, looking skyward to gaze at the moon overhead. She knew, why he was here. She had been observing the duel for quite some time now through the eyes of the vampire's familiars, and she figured that the count himself was probably tired of waiting. It had been a while after all, since he had last tasted battle.

Now originally, she would have preferred to just sit back and watch as Lancer and Saber attempted to keel each other off. It would have made things so much easier in the long run if at least one of them were to die, but from the looks of how the situation had currently progressed, i.e. – thanks to Rider's interference, she was fairly sure that that was not going to happen. Pity.

Still, that certainly didn't mean the situation had been soured in any way. No. It just meant that they would simply have to kill the other servants themselves, which was delightful in its own right. Integra had always been a firm believer in the saying: "the best hands to trust are always you're own", thus she was actually quite pleased with these particular turn of events.

What's more, thanks to that bumbling oaf's thoughtless act of provocation, they had just been provided with a perfect stage for their debut performance and Integra for one was not about to let it go to waste. Three, no, four now she could see, of the potential six remaining Servants all gathered together in a single place, only a fool would be stupid enough not to take advantage of such a grand opportunity.

Well, so long as one possessed the proper tools of course. No half decent strategist would send a dog into a lion's den, obviously, unless their aim had been to kill it in the first place. As such, it was convenient for her that she didn't have just any dog at her beck and call, she had the very same hound of Hell itself, and it was itching to bare its fangs.

However, simply because Alucard was powerful, didn't mean he was unbeatable. She had thought that before, and she had lost him because of it. She would not make the same mistake twice. The Vampire's greatest ability, his omnipresence, relied solely in his ability to process cognitive thought, and as such could only be successfully routed by taking him by surprise or completely overwhelming him. If he was killed before even he was aware of it, or before he could envision his escape, then he would die. It was as simple as that.

Still, considering just whom it was that she was currently talking about, and the fact that the effective use of most anti-army and above noble phantasms required at least some form of cue, either verbal or physical, only the former possibility was of any real concern.

"Do not forget vampire." She warned. "Do not let them catch you off guard."

The shadow chuckled softly. "I know. I know." The responding voice spoke, light and carefree, a mop of golden blonde hair emerging from the dark followed by a pair of big cat ears and crimson red eyes. "I've been doing this for hundreds of years now mein meister. I am fairly sure I am knowing what I am doing."

Casually, Integra glanced towards the Vampire, the youthful face of the pseudo-vampire Schrodinger locking gazes with her own. She raised a brow. As much as she had initially disliked the form Alucard had chosen to hide his identity, she had to admit that it was rather fitting considering just how significant the cat vampire was now to the Count's very being. It was, after all, through him that the Count was now near unkillable even under the most extreme of circumstances, and literally non-existent during the time when he had been one with his trove of lost souls.

Yet still, while she may no longer despise the particular form, even despite how it constantly reminded her that she was now missing an eye, it still didn't mean that she had to like it, particularly in seeing just how the Count inevitably took on multiple aspects of the cat vampire's rather informal personality. Really, the only thing she actually liked about his current appearance was the shrunken down version of Van Hellsing's garb the vampire wore. It was cute, she had to admit. But beyond that, not much else really struck her fancy.

She brought her cigar to her lips. "Well then, what are you waiting for?" She gestured absently, cocking her head in the direction of the docks. "You have a show to perform."

Grinning, the Vampire gave a tip of his hat, his signature orange specks materializing over the bridge of his nose. "Ja, so don't turn away now mein meister, I assure you it will be quite the 'killer' performance, if you know what I mean."

"Oh," Integra hummed, loosing a breath from her cigar, a smirk coming to her lips. "Then do entertain me."

And the Vampire vanished from sight.

* * *

 _-Fuyuki City Docks-_

From his perch atop the streetlight, Archer readied his weapons, the gates rippling at his back as he looked on in disdain at the peasants below. How dare these plebeians. To not only forget the face of their king, but to also proclaim themselves as kings when he himself was the one true monarch? Such insolence, Gilgamesh frowned. He could not let such a grand transgression go unpunished. They would pay for their impudence with their lives.

"You dare issue commands to me, cur? To your King?" He sneered in disdain. "To think that even despite being blessed enough to personally bask in my glory, you are all still unable to even recall my name. You are uncivilized animals, unworthy of your lives." The weapons at his back snapped to the ready. "Feel honored as I alleviate you of them."

Down below, the gathered Servants took their stances, Saber by her Master and Rider next his own. Lancer stood between, spears raised and features hardened as all three Servants awaited Archer's attack.

Carefully, Saber ushered Irisviel behind her. She knew, things were escalating beyond than she had initially anticipated. Once the battle began, she would need to get Irisviel back to cover as quickly as possible. Her duel with Lancer was one thing, but something like this was far too dangerous a situation for her allow the homunculus to stay, particularly since she herself had only the full use of a single hand. The King of Britain grit her teeth, this wasn't good.

"We're gonna die. We're gonna die. We're gonna die." Waver repeated like a mantra, clutching onto his head as his life practically flashed before his eyes. He had seen what Archer was capable of, had watched him practically annihilate Assassin during the utterly one-sided bout that the two Servants had had, and he knew, just knew, that this was going to be the last day that he ever saw. Dear God, why did he ever think that joining this stupid war was a good idea?

Silently, Lancer regarded their new golden opponent. Truly, this was to be a difficult battle indeed. Archer was powerful, that much he already knew from what his Master had informed him, he would need to make full use of his speed if he wanted to survive long enough to take the other's head. But, as fortune may have it, he was not fighting alone, and as much as he disliked the idea of using others, they would provide him the distraction he would need to land a fatal – And Lancer tensed.

 _'What in the world?'_ The Irishman scowled, feeling a fresh wave of cold suddenly claw up his spine. This energy, like insects, crawling, skittering across his skin, suffocating him, their legs digging deep into his flesh. What a cold, twisted power, he couldn't help but think, hands growing tighter around the shafts of his arms. Without a doubt in his mind, Lancer knew. Another servant had joined fray.

But, just what sort of being could exude such malevolence? Such dark and evil intent. And how could the Grail, an object of such divine and sacred power, have allowed such a creature to be summoned at all?

The spear-man's wondering was cut short by a scream from Rider's Master. The smaller man was practically gripping onto his Servant for dear life as he looked on in horror, with mere inches between them, at the charming little grin of their newest arrival.

"Guten tag, mein brothers and sister."

* * *

"Why do you think he waited to materialize now?" Maiya relayed through their intercom, genuine confusion radiating from her tone. "Why not have done so earlier? Or until the others had already picked each other off?"

Kiritsugu could think of two likely possibilities. The first and clearly more optimistic of the two, would be the fact that his Master was either a fool, or currently not in a rational state of mind. After all, no sane Master he could think of would actually be stupid enough to willingly send in their Servant into the midst of such a dire situation. This thought was then further compounded by the fact that their newest arrival was most probably Servant Caster considering how he still retained the ability to speak, and as such was completely unsuited for direct confrontation with literally any other Servant.

They were considered the weakest of all the servant classes for a reason, not only due to their lack of physical strength which left them weaker than even Assassin in a direct confrontation, but also due to the myriad of magical resistances possessed by nearly all of the other classes, which, more often than not, rendered their spells completely useless. Hence, in order to properly compete, most members of the Caster class would bide their time, observe their opponents and then act with carefully planned strategies to counter their foes. That was their way, and therein lied the problem. The second, far more likely possibility, if you would.

It was more than suspicious.

Why in the world would one of such an unsuitable classification to actively insert themselves into a scenario where direct confrontation was not only a possibility, but an inevitability? Less intelligent folk would reason it was because they were a fool, too simple minded to fully grasp the severity of their situation or too egotistical to understand the limitations of their powers. Kiritsugu however, knew better than that.

Caster had something planned, and considering the goosebumps currently adorning his skin, suffice to say, that did not bode well for any of them.

The Magus Killer scowled, staring long and hard at their newest contender. It was a boy, a blonde, maybe fifteen to sixteen years of age sitting atop the edge of Rider's chariot, clad in a neatly pressed Victorian suit and scarlet cravat, with shorts instead of pants. Atop the suit, he wore a long grey overcoat with a matching fedora before finishing off the outfit with a pair of dark orange specks that gleamed in the light.

Shaking off the shivers that he felt, Kiritsugu placed a hand atop his intercom. If Caster was here now, that meant his Master must also be nearby. Such an energy dependent classification such as Caster would need to have their source of energy nearby at nearly all times in order to function at full capacity. If he could find them, kill them, and do it quickly, he could stop whatever plan it was Caster had hatched before it had even begun.

"Maiya, you keep an eye on Assassin. I'm going to go search of Caster's Master."

"Understood."

* * *

Easily concealing the shock that he felt, the Rider barked a laugh, subtly stepping in front of his bumbling Master so as to stand face to face with whom he assumed was Servant Caster. "How impressive!" He grinned, craning his head down to look upon the much shorter male. "I didn't even sense you coming. I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors, would it be safe for me to assume that you are Servant Caster, my charming little friend?"

The other Servant chuckled in response. "Ja. That is correct." He smiled softly, glasses gleaming as he lifted his gaze from Rider's scrawny Master to the other Servant himself. "And please, allow me to apologize ahead of time. I am afraid I cannot join forces with you, as my loyalty lies only to my one and only Meister. I do hope you understand."

So he has been watching this entire time, Rider mentally surmised, before casually feigning disappointment. "Really? Truly a shame then. It would have been such an honour to have been able to fight along side such a skilled and mighty Sorcerer such as yourself." Not that he had any sort of real intention in recruiting the other Servant of course. The sheer malice he could feel radiating from the smaller man had easily put a stop to that.

Rider was no stranger when it came to dealing with monsters. He had slayed many a beast and abomination long before he had even begun his march across the sands, and of the many creatures that he had encountered it had always been those clad in human skin that turned his stomach the most. Such vile and deceitful things, with no semblance of honour or right.

He would have to be wary. After all, why would Caster show himself now of all times considering the sheer overwhelming odds set against him? Could it have been his pride and Rider's denunciation that drove him out into the open? Perhaps, but the King of Conquerors was sure that the real reason behind the other's timely appearance was far more significant than that. Besides, what good was pride to a monster?

"Danke," Caster graciously replied, chuckling soft and swinging his feet. "But I'm afraid your compliments will get you nowhere King of Conquerors." The sorcerer continued, turning then to flit his eyes upon every other Servant. "My loyalty cannot be swayed." And at that, the shorter Servant leapt from the railing of Rider's chariot, flipping spectacularly through the air, to land dead center amongst the other servant. "Besides, no one here is going to leaving this place alive anyway, so really, what would be the point, no?"

Without a sound, Rider's blade was within his grasp, his features never wavering in their stalwart composure. He smiled coldly, shifting position to take the reigns of his chariot, his reflection showing in Caster's specks. Silently, he eyed both Saber and Lancer, the two knights similarly unnerved and clearly on guard, Archer let out a snort.

"How laughable." The Golden Servant sneered, the weapons behind his back now having nearly doubled in numbers. "You, an insect, kill me? Me? The one true king and ruler of this world?" Archer growled. "The very thought is not only absurd, its insulting. You think you can kill me? Why you won't even be able to lay a finger on me before I reduce you to dust at my fee-."

And then Caster was there, gone from amongst the other servant and all of a sudden swiping a hand across Archer's face. The haughty forced Servant to leap from his perch and land upon the ground, eyes shadowed by dark. His cheek was bleeding, the cut small in size but clearly deep given the considerable amount of blood now flowing down Archer's chin. Back upon the street light Caster extended an arm, a single white playing card held lazily between his fingers, dripping with red.

"Now, what did you say about not being able to touch you?" The child sorcerer grinned, bringing the card to his lips and lapping at the blood.

At his side, Rider heard his Master whimper. "Oh fuck."

Truly a most suitable summation of the night thus far.

* * *

 _ **A very late update I know, but University happened and yeah. Anyway I hope you guys liked the chapter, things only get more exciting from here on out!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Fate Of Monsters**_

 _ **By: I*C*U***_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3:**_

* * *

 _-Fuyuki City Dockyard-_

* * *

Slowly, the Golden Servant brought a hand to the cut on his face, fingers softly dabbing at his still bleeding cheek before being brought before his eyes. A wound? He had been injured? Archer clenched his fist, eyes falling shut as he loosed a deep breath.

This - This, _thing_ , had actually managed to lay a hand on him? He felt his lips curl. How dare this accursed creature. To inflict upon him such a mark of grave humiliation, he would ensure that there would be nothing at all left even of its ashes once he was through.

He raised his head then, scarlet orbs narrowing as he looked on at his attacker, the wicked aberration still grinning from on high, features lost in shadow. He wanted to curse, to snarl, to spit at his horrible twisted thing, but knew that it did not deserve it.

Without a word, he had the Gates blanket the sky, dozens upon dozens of his legendary treasures sliding into view and emerging from all directions, leaving the docks awash in a brilliant golden hue. Absently, he noted that the other mongrels had moved to clear the area. Saber and her Master towards one end of the docks, Lancer to the other and Rider to the air.

A wise decision.

Caster let out a whistle. "My, my. What pretty colours." He laughed, toying with a deck he had produced from his coat, every card amongst them likely as sharp as the last.

Returning to his wound, Gilgamesh swiped at the red still marring his cheek, wound now closed without so much as a trace left behind. He sneered, and so began the extermination. Thirty weapons all in all, descending from above to rain destruction upon the swine that dared to spill his noble blood.

From all directions, his treasures rocketed towards their mark. The first was dodged with ease, the weapon soaring harmlessly past with a mere shift in Caster's stance. Then came the second, the third and sorcerer leapt from where he stood, the street light now naught but a haze of dust and debris.

With a grin, Caster struck back, twisting through the air so as to avoid the next three treasures before loosing at Archer a wave of his own. Two Jacks, two fours, and a single ace.

Wordlessly, Archer responded, opening a gate directly before him, a small crystal parma emerging from its depths. Then without pause, the shield began to glow, loosing frost and near tripling in diameter, the cards falling uselessly against its stalwart defense.

"Hey now, that's not fair." Caster pouted, backpedaling from where he had landed with a number of flips, a trail of destruction following in his wake at Archer's continued assault. Again, the child servant loosed another volley, hand after hand soaring towards the Golden King only to be intercepted by the shield that stood before him, the mass of floating crystal actively seeking each and every strike.

Gilgamesh looked on in disdain. Foolish abomination. To stubbornly fight on despite the futility of it's efforts. How truly distasteful. Still, he would not lower his guard a second time. To have suffered already a single blow from this base creature was insult enough. He refused to suffer another.

It was only a matter of time now anyway. His treasury was endless, capable of forming an innumerable number of projectile copies of any of his legendary arms. The same could not be said about Caster's stamina. This battle had been won long before it had even - and Archer whirled himself around, bringing down a blade now suddenly within his grasp.

"Oh. How very impressive, herr Archer." Caster grinned, seemingly not at all bothered by the sword in his throat, red spewing across his chest. "You have very good instincts."

Feeling the sting of yet another cut marring his features, Gilgamesh snarled, "What, are you?"

* * *

That shouldn't be possible. That shouldn't be possible. Dear god, he had a fucking sword in his neck. That shouldn't be possible, Waver gulped. "How-How is he still alive?" He said shakily, features pale and dripping with sweat. Rider frowned in response, bringing the chariot ever closer towards the scene, reins pulled taught, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

"It must be his legend." The Conqueror spoke. "Some aspect of his tale that shields him from death, or strips him of such a luxury. Perhaps a blessing from a deity or the power of a sacred charm, though I very much doubt it is either of those things." A frown. "You felt it too did you not? The terrible darkness surrounding our newest opponent."

Silently, Waver nodded, feeling the cold once again begin nipping at his spine, a deep heavy pressure settling upon his bones. He didn't know what could have possibly been the root of such an aura. Rage. Sorrow. Pain. Or perhaps, even pleasure. All that he did know though, was that it had been... suffocating, as if a vice had been placed directly around his throat, the absolute terror robbing him of breath and rooting him into place. Never in his life had he felt anything so wholly and truly wicked, and yet, at the very same time, he was awash with the deepest sense of pity he had ever experienced. A sad twisted feeling drawn not out of his own conscious mind, but rather from within his very soul.

"It's-it's a curse." He heard himself say, earning a nod from the much larger man.

"I am of the same opinion, and though it may certainly complicate things further, it will at least narrow down the options for identifying Caster's true name. The fact that he was summoned at all means that the sorcerer did eventually die at some point. If we can find out who he really is, we can use his legend to bypass his curse. Till then, we will have to be wary." Not that Waver didn't already know that.

Despite being the novice that he was, even he could tell that Caster was dangerous. A wildcard in every sense of the word, with parameters far more suited to a Knight than a Mage. This was a foe that could literally come at them from any plausible direction, and that wasn't only in reference to the sorcerer's apparent capability of instantaneous teleportation. Literally right out of the gate, Caster had already defied several of the pre-conceived notions surrounding his particular classification. Seeking conflict, instead of avoiding it. The capability of holding his own against what would normally be assumed as a faster, stronger, far superior servant, and some of the highest physical stats Waver had seen in the war thus far. Couple that together with an utterly ridiculous rank EX prana pool, and Waver knew, without a doubt, that he was hovering a literal hop, skip and obviously not far enough distance away from the two biggest threats in this entire war. He swallowed audibly.

"What, are you?" Waver heard Archer snarl, ripping his blade from Caster's gushing throat. Then with a sneer, he leapt back, placing another twenty feet between him and the other servant, his summoned shield following resolute.

Caster simply grinned and gave a tsk, his head hanging limply off to one side and the literal vertebrae of his neck exposed to the world. If Waver hadn't already lost his dinner on top of the bridge, he knew for certain that he would have lost it now. Gaia, there was so much blood. Teasingly, Caster waggled a finger before the knight. "Now, now you know I can't just tell you that mein bruder. That's not how the game works. I'm afraid you're just going to have to figure that out like everybody else Herr Archer."

Visibly incensed, the Golden servant grit his teeth, features twisting into a livid scowl. "Why you..." He paused, eyes widening for just the briefest of moments before narrowing dangerously. "You have some nerve Tokiomi." He stated softly, fist clenching at his side as his eyes danced with rage and humiliation. "To force your King from the battlefield, to leave judgement undone even after such insult had been dealt." Archer turned his gaze upwards. "Know that there will be consequences for this."

Then with a wave of his hand, the gates around the docks shimmered into nothing, vanishing in a haze of gold. "Consider yourself lucky, creature. The next time we meet, you will be naught but a stain upon the earth."

"Ooh. A stain upon the earth." Caster chuckled in response. "How truly terrifying you are mein bruder." The sorcerer smiled, grabbing a hold of his dangling head so as to shift it back into place, the flesh around the wound twisting, wriggling as if infested with grubs as the neck quickly began to stitch itself back together. "Still, leaving so soon? And before the real fun has even begun?" Caster pouted, Archer already beginning to fade, golden dust quickly enveloping his form. "Why, that won't do at all."

And then the next thing Waver knew, Caster was before the other servant, arm raised and levering a pistol the length his shin directly at Archer's chest. "I simply cannot let you go."

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

With a deafening crack, the hammer struck, the bullet from within the chamber, rocketing itself out of the barrel and deep into the wall of a surrounding shipment crate. It was clear, that Archer had been expecting such an attack, The Golden servant having acted the instant the gun had been fired, shifting to the side so as to avoid the line of fire, before opening a set of gates to surround his foe. Immediately, they released a barrage of gleaming steel, sacred bronze and treasured iron directly upon the sorcerer, the air filling with the sound shattering bones and rending flesh.

The first blow, a spear, struck Caster directly through the chest, rooting the servant to the ground as the weapon tore through the young man's lungs and into the concrete below. The next, an axe, blew away the Sorcerer's entire left arm, slicing clean through the flesh and right through the bone as it soared through the air. From there, blood and bone and madness, was all Saber could see. Caster grinning and laughing like mad as he was torn to pieces, his legs chopped, his intestines spilling out and even after he had lost his head, fragments of bone and teeth and brain flying in all directions as a massive sparking hammer struck him dead across the face.

She could still hear him laughing, Even now, when all that was left of him was naught but a limbless, headless cadaver that still shook as if it still had a mouth of cackle with. Sword raised, The King of Knight tightened her grasp, posture tense, wary and ready to strike at a moment's notice.

This was madness, she thought darkly, gritting her teeth as she continued to usher Irisviel away. Was this truly a hero that stood before her eyes? This being that laughed and danced in the face of death? Either way, the situation was growing more and more dangerous with each passing moment, and while Archer may have seemingly bested the crazed sorcerer, Saber knew better than to make assumptions.

Magic, and therefore Magi in their usage of it, were a dangerous and unpredictable sort, a lesson Merlin himself had personally driven into her skull after years of personal guidance, and then confirmed through her conflicts against the Lady Le Fay. For those that would use their talents for the betterment of others, there were just as equally others that would abuse such gifts, delving deep into depraved and forbidden aspects of Magic and Sorcery. Caster, there was little doubt in her mind, must have been one of such fools.

And yet, this crazed lunatic he was considered a hero, a warrior worthy to seek the sacred Holy Grail? Surely there must have been some mistake. She pursed her lips. But the Grail did not make mistakes. There were pieces to this puzzle that were not adding up. Carefully, she kept her eyes firmly glued upon Caster's still blooding corpse, the body now finally beginning to grow still at the end of Archer's assault, the voice all around them dwindling to a hush.

She blinked, and then Caster was again standing directly before Archer, whole and with his hands reared back, cards between his fingers. With a cheer, he loosed them all towards the Golden servant, the cards soaring outwards in a arc before converging upon Archer's form. At the same time, as the cards flew toward their target, Caster warped to Archer's rear, gun raised and leveled at the other servant's back. He fired, a hail of lead and smoking gunpowder descending upon his foe, poised to meet his initial volley in a near simultaneous pincer attack.

The Golden servant was unimpressed. "Defend, Svalinn." And Caster's two attacks met.

Behind her, Irisviel gasped, a dull rumbling noise slowly reaching Saber's ears. Glancing back, she saw the Homonculus presenting her, her phone. A message from her wayward Master then. Grave, the Magus Killer's voice sounded from the machine.

 _"Retreat. The situation has escalated beyond set parameters._

 _Get Iri out of there."_

* * *

A gun.

Caster had a gun. The ramifications of such a fact could not possibly be over exaggerated, as it's presence in the sorcerer's arsenal clearly identified the smaller servant as a hero of the modern age. Furthermore, upon identifying the monstrous weapon as a modified .454 Casull, Kiritsugu could confidently make the assumption that Caster had been alive up until, at the very least, the late 1950s.

But that was impossible. The most recently canonized heroic spirits had all lived their lives well over a hundred years prior to the twenty first century, and there was good reason for that. With the increasing convenience of modern weaponry in the world's current era, it was near impossible for individuals to attain even a modicum of legend or renown due to the now 'faceless' nature of heroism and conflict upon the world stage. Essentially, anyone with enough training in the usage of these new arms, could be considered a hero so long as they utilized said skills for good. As such, by that logic, if anyone capable of wielding said arms could be considered a hero, then no one at all could be considered a hero, as there would be no particular distinction between one warrior and the next.

Thus, Caster shouldn't even exist considering the circumstances, and yet, he did.

Kiritsugu scowled. This was wrong. Something was happening behind the scenes, and he had no idea what it could possibly be. Silently, he brought a hand to his ear piece, shifting his connection from Maiya's comm to his wife's mobile phone. There were suddenly far too many factors in play right now, and he would not allow Irisiviel to put her life on the line any longer than she already has. The fight between Caster and Archer was drawing to a close and the instant he had enough time, Kiritsugu knew, Archer would be forced to follow through with his Master's order.

Then, who knew what Caster would do. If he went after Iri and Saber, the King of Knights would be unable to properly defend them both given her lack of a second arm and Caster's incredibly ill-matched skill of teleportation. He had to at leas try and get them out of there while he still had the chance.

He held down the key and spoke. "Retreat. The situation has escalated beyond set parameters. Get Iri out of there."

Saber replied not a moment later. _"Consider it done."_

Adjusting his grip on his rifle, Kiritsugu shifted his gaze back towards the battle, Caster's two pronged attack having been stopped dead in it's tracks by a dome of solid ice. The source of he crystals, the very same shield Archer had called upon earlier, at the dome's very tip. Then with one final sneer, the golden servant faded to nothing, wisps of gold wafting away in a breeze that was not there. Moments later, the ice followed suit, shattering into pieces before melting away, shield and all.

"Damn." Caster huffed, resting his pistol down atop his shoulder. "He got away."

"No thanks to you're toying around." Another voice spoke, strong and timber and with a heavy french accent. "You should have just shot him in the head point blank, sorcerer. Now he's managed to scurry off to safety. Really, just what sort of cat lets the rats get away hmm?"

Sheepishly, Caster laughed. "Es tut mir Leid, mein good sir. I got a bit carried away."

A scoff. "Well that much is obvious, seeing as you are also currently allowing yet another pair of rodents to make their escape." And hear, the voice grew put out. "And here, I was expecting so much more from you, King of Knights."

The Magus killer froze. Shit.

* * *

Gaze searching for the source of the voice, Saber grit her teeth. Damn it all. They were just barely a block away from the nearest road. She needed to get Irisviel to safety and fast, before Caster caught up with them. Her reflexes may be good, but even they wouldn't be able to hold up against the sorcerer for long if she had to watch out for both herself and Irisviel. The fact that she could only properly use one arm didn't exactly make things any better either.

Quickly, Saber pulled them both behind the nearest crate.

"Play time is over Caster." The voice went on. "I don't mind you enjoying yourself, but now is the time to finally get serious. I want everyone on these docks dead by the end of the hour. You can handle that can't you?"

Peeking out from behind their cover, Saber watched as Caster slipped off his hat and bowed ever so slightly, his pointed cat ears springing upwards at the fedora's missing presence. Above him, Caster's master emerged from the dark, stepping out into the night atop a nearby warehouse, his one good eye, gleaming a dull sickly green. He wore a simple brown suit and matching hat, with a deep red scarf he had coiled around his neck. Atop his left eye, sat a wide leather eye patch, framed by his long re hair and emblazoned with a seal Saber did not know.

"But of course, good sir. Just leave it all to me. With this next trick, even the cowardly Archer and his master won't be able to escape, no matter where they may be hiding. His blood, shall to that." Caster grinned.

"Really?" The cyclopic man drawled, reaching into his pocket to pull forth a cigarette. He smirked coyly, placing it into his mouth before lighting it with a finger, the briefest spark of flames flashing before their eyes. "Then please, do go wild."

Then with a cackle, Caster leapt into the air, returning his hat into place and bracing his pistol against the length of his arm, glasses flashing.

"Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor..."

"... My bullets punish all without distinction."


End file.
